Trigun Drabbles
by dytabytes
Summary: I write random Trigun drabbles for various reasons, and I'll compile them here. Each one is a oneshot. They'll be mostly gen, and whatever pairing may be there will be vague at best. Hopefully they'll have some insight? Rating is for language.
1. On Dreams

On Dreaming

While he tended his injured master, Legato settled down into a quiet town to wait. Said town lay in the outskirts of somewhere, in the middle of nowhere, and could have been anywhere. It was large enough that the occupants of the town hadn't contracted horrible diseases from inbreeding, but was too small to have a name. It was perfect.

There was only one minor nuisance. Whenever he walked through the dusty streets, people stared. Only a few openly gawked at the freak that passed by, but Legato could feel their eyes burning a hole in his cloak, which was eerily white in contrast to the black clothing underneath.

A bubble of quiet surrounded him while he bought his necessities. People would stop talking when they saw him stride through the streets. They would drop their conversations so that they could pretend not to notice him, but Legato knew better. The silence surrounding him teemed with the thoughts of ignorants.

"What a freak."

"Blue hair... disgusting."

"He's a demon. He must be."

The man would just smile an eerie half-grin, and let the corners of his unnaturally golden eyes crinkle ever so slightly. After all, Legato knew better.

Demons don't dream, and every second he lived was a fantastic nightmare.


	2. On Alcohol's Lesser Known Side Effects

On the Effects of Alcohol  


"Vash, you're my buddy and I love you, but, _damnit_, how long does it take to pee!"

Wolfwood banged impatiently on the door of the washroom.

"I'm going, I'm going!"

"Well you're not. Going. Fast enough." Each phrase was emphasised with another bang on the door. Wolfwood's glare could have levelled July all over again.

"If you keep rushing me, it's going to take longer! I don't function well under pressure!"

"Yeah, well, that's not what you were saying last night, and for God's sake, hurry or I'm gonna-"

The door opened to allow a rather disgrunted Vash out. With a rather hurt air, he noted, "You really shouldn't say the Lord's name in vain, Nick."

"Whatever." Wolfwood pushed passed the tall blonde, and the washroom door banged shut again.

"I could hear you two from three rooms over, and the walls in this hotel are pretty thick." Meryl walked up to Vash and asked quizzically, "What went up _his_ ass and died?"

Vash smiled and shrugged. "We went drinking. I guess all of that Wild Turkey wants out now."


	3. In the Mangaverse

The Eye of Michael Worships Who?

As he lay on the ground, looking up at the stars, Vash wondered aloud, "Wolfwood, what does that D in your name stand for?"

A snort from the darkness answered him. "I've told you before. It stands for-"

"Yeah, that really long mumbo-jumble of syllables... but what does it mean?"

A beat.

"It's some strange language from the past. All I know is that Aunt Melanie thought that it sounded 'romantic'. Only the Lord knows what it's supposed to _mean_."

Another beat.

"You know, I don't think that Knives even _knows_ Japanese."


	4. Coincidence? I think not

Scrabble Night

Wolfwood blinked at the board.

"There's no way that that's a word."

Smirking, Dominique shrugged. "Oh, but it _is_."

"What the hell's a _zenith_?"

Midvalley sighed at the ignorance of the man sitting across from him. "A zenith is the point in the sky that's directly above you. As in, it's over your head. Like most of these words are."

Wolfwood snarled. "Hey! Are you implying that I'm stupid?"

Midvalley played with his cigarette, caressing the thin white cylinder with his long fingers.

"Chapel, I'm not _implying_. I'm _telling you_ that you're stupid."

The music man smirked, then blew out a silvery-blue smoke ring. In response, the man in front of him developed a throbbing vein in his forehead, and Dominique decided that going to the kitchen to refill her lemonade would be a good idea.

"Oh, and by the way, preacher..." Wooden tiles clicked onto the board. M-O-R-O-N-I-C. "Triple word score. Isn't that a coincidence?"

At this point, Wolfwood decided that playing fair was for the dogs and he launched himself across the table. He showed up for work the next day with a purpling eye and a satisfied smirk on his face.


End file.
